Heir to the Throne
by evolution-500
Summary: A strange letter draws Rebecca back home to Colorado, where she uncovers a secret that will change her life forever. An explanation for the photo in Wesker's desk in "Resident Evil 2".


**Heir to the Throne**

**By evolution-500**

**Disclaimer: Resident Evil is a property that belongs to Capcom. I do not own any of these characters.**

**Genre: Mystery/Horror**

Green eyes scanned along the dirt road as they searched for the address of their destination.

_'It should be around here somewhere,'_ Rebecca thought as she glanced around, peering at the tall looming trees, the sun setting overhead. Sighing, she swept a hand through her short brown hair. She should have gotten herself a rental that had a GPS.

Who would have guessed that Professor Rebecca Chambers of Chicago U, former medic and sole survivor of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team, would be defeated by her own lack of direction? And in Colorado, the very state where she was born and raised?

Fate, it seemed, had a dark and twisted sense of humor.

It all started with a letter that she picked up from her mailbox as she was coming home after a long day's lecture.

Written by a Giles Blackwood, an attorney and one of the named partners at the firm 'Blackwood and James' in Boulder, Colorado, according to the letter, one of their clients, a "Mr. Sims", had named her as beneficiary to some property and money. At first, Rebecca believed it to be a hoax or a scam; a quick search on the internet revealed them to be a pretty prestigious law firm, but it seemed so unlikely. Puzzled, Rebecca then contacted her lawyer's office about it, who in turn contacted Blackwood's office and confirmed its legitimacy, further perplexing her. As far as she knew, Rebecca never heard of anyone, let alone _met_ anyone by that particular surname. Not even her own mother knew.

Rebecca gave a small smile as she thought of her.

When Rebecca told her mother the news, she had wanted to come along with her to Colorado, equally intrigued and somewhat perturbed by this strange business.

She had been absolutely adamant on coming along with her, but Rebecca had insisted on her mother staying and her going alone, partially to keep down costs for the both of them in the event it turned out to be a mistake.

She was so persistent, so determined to protect Rebecca, even though Rebecca herself had pointed out multiple times that she was a former police officer and that she could take care of herself.

If it hadn't been for an emergency call from her veterinarian clinic, Rebecca was certain that the stubborn woman would have followed her to the ends of the earth.

_'I wonder what she's doing at this moment,'_ she wondered wistfully.

She imagined her at the clinic, tending to the animals under her care or somewhere back home, patiently waiting for her.

Taking in a deep breath, she sighed, then turned her thoughts away to avoid crying. Once this was finished, she'll give her mother a call and check in with her, but for now, there was a mystery that needed to be solved.

Leaning into her car seat, Rebecca pondered to herself as she continued to drive on.

Who was this "Mr. Sims"?

Rebecca herself wasn't exactly a glamorous figure - at five foot three and ninety-three pounds, with short brown hair, an oval face and pixie-like features she wasn't exactly the ideal woman, nor did her casual, if not sloppy way of dressing, which consisted of a loose, untucked white dress shirt with a red tie and green pants with rolled up hems, seem likely to evoke any feelings of desire from the opposite sex, wealthy or otherwise, which made the whole thing seem so...bizarre.

Once a meeting was arranged for all the parties involved, with her taking the earliest plane out from Chicago, all the documents signed and approved, she emerged from their home office in Boulder with an address and nothing more.

When she questioned Blackwood, a tall, coke bottle-shaped man in a black suit with spectacles, receding hair and the countenance of an owl, about this mysterious "Mr. Sims", he shed little light on the matter - all that Blackwood knew about "Mr. Sims" was that he was a tall handsome man of indeterminate age with fine features who kept largely to himself, was very quiet, and liked to travel extensively, evidently a man of wealth.

And now here she was, in the backwoods of nowhere, trying to find the address of some property that, for all she knew, was a rundown, rat-filled wreck that was barely even worth the effort.

_'It's funny how things have turned out,'_ Rebecca reflected.

She never anticipated coming back to Colorado of all places. Ever since that fateful day in the Arklay Mountains, Rebecca vowed to never step foot back here. It had been the worst two days of her life. To this day, she still had nightmares about those mountains, about that city. She still remembered those awful nights. How she was hunted by monsters. How she emerged the lone survivor of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team. How she was nearly killed by two psychopaths, one more monstrous than the other. How their own Captain, Albert Wesker, betrayed the team and shot her in the chest.

Gripping the steering wheel, the former medic trembled as she recalled the impact.

She still remembered the aloof expression on his face as he shot her. It was so...empty. How was it possible for anyone to be so...evil? That was the only way to describe his behavior. Evil. When Rebecca first met Wesker, he was so charming and charismatic. A lot of the trainees had called him a hard-ass, a machine, a living ice sculpture. Various other unflattering terms were used to describe him, but with her...he was...different. He would check in with her to see how she was, even _smile_ at her from time to time, something that he _rarely_ did, if ever. He seemed to genuinely _care_ for her. For a moment, Rebecca thought that she had detected a..._warmth_ when he interacted with her. Maybe, just _maybe_, she had thought at the time, he really _was_ much nicer than he liked to let on. Rebecca couldn't have been anymore wrong about him; Wesker was a monster, a murderer. A former researcher, Wesker had been with Umbrella from the beginning, manipulating everyone on her team by sending them all up to that godforsaken mansion to die. Those horrible things he did to Lisa Trevor...

Because of him, seven people lost their lives, leaving her as sole survivor of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team, her combat vest the only thing that spared her from being the eighth victim. Because of him, the world was now exposed to a new form of bioterrorism, one with _very_ real monsters.

Hysteria coursed through her as she began to hyperventilate, her breathing harsh and shaky.

"Calm down, Rebecca," Rebecca said to herself nervously as she tried to steady her breathing. "Deep breaths, girl. Deep slow breaths."

Inhaling sharply, she breathed out slowly through her nostrils.

Even after all these years, she still felt like a little girl. She often wondered how it was that she was able to survive that horrible experience, why it was her and her alone that lived on while the others in Bravo Team were not so fortunate. Chris and the others tried to assure her that she had been lucky, but...something nagged at her. Rebecca didn't really know what it was, but she felt deep in her bones that there was something more. Wesker, it would be discovered, was a _very_ resourceful and dangerous person, ruthlessly efficient. And yet...why did he botch the job with her? Was she really just the odd fuckup?

It seemed too strange.

She frowned.

_'You're making a big deal out of nothing, Rebecca,'_ she told herself._ 'Move on from him already. Let that piece of shit rot in hell where he belongs.' _

Rebecca kind of wished that it had been _her_ that had fired that rocket instead of Chris...but she'd gladly take whatever little satisfaction she could get for karma's sake. Wesker dying was enough for her.

Letting out a tired yawn, she massaged her eyes wearily. Bloody jet lag. Those planes really need comfier seats.

Taking out the map from the glove compartment, Rebecca studied it curiously.

_'The man at the convenience store said to take a right on Koontz Road,'_ Rebecca thought as she tried to determine the location.

Or was it left?

She frowned. Did she get lost again?

The former S.T.A.R.S. medic refrained from tearing her hair out. She had survived two monster-infested mansions/facilities, and now here she was, lost in the middle of nowhere.

_'Story of my life!'_ Rebecca thought bitterly.

She was starting to regret coming out here. After all, Rebecca had far better things to do such as preparing lecture notes for her classes in Microbiology in the spring term, her upcoming conference in Arkham, Louisiana, or even her meeting with the other BSAA advisors. What could she possibly expect to find all the way out here?

Driving on through the thick woods, Rebecca briefly stopped at a gas station and asked for directions while refilling the tank to her grey Volkswagen rental. Half an hour later, she continued down the lonely road to nowhere, looking back on her life while at the same time searching for the address.

Once she got back from the mansion, Rebecca left S.T.A.R.S. and never looked back. She couldn't stop thinking about poor Richard, Edward, Enrico and those other lost souls - every night she thought about them and their families, and every night, she asked one question: why?

Why was she the only one from Bravo Team to emerge alive? All of them had _some_ form of military or police experience - she, on the other hand, had been a geeky tomboy that graduated from university with a degree in Biomedical Science. It never made sense to her, and because of that, she'd always felt so guilt-ridden.

_'It should have been me,'_ Rebecca thought sadly.

At one point, Rebecca was so troubled by what happened, felt so guilty over the deaths of Bravo Team that she tried to commit suicide. The only reason why she was even alive was because she failed.

The former medic scoffed. Too useless to save a life, and yet too useless to even take her own. Once a fuckup, always a fuckup.

Since that time, she tried to do the only thing she could do - move on. After she took on various odd jobs to pay for her education, she went back to university and got her PH.D., and eventually, a position at the University of Chicago as a professor, and then later on as an advisor for the BSAA.

And now, here she was, back in Colorado.

"Finally," Rebecca said aloud as she caught sight of the sign.

Taking a left, she drove up a hill, then spotted her destination - an unremarkable-looking traditional stick house cabin with white walls and a grey roof that looked a little decrepit with age. Pulling up to the driveway, Rebecca gave the building a once-over, followed by a sigh.

_'Yep, this is my inheritance, alright,'_ she drawled.

Parking the vehicle, Rebecca stepped out with her purse, shutting the door behind her. Once she made certain that it was locked, she approached the front door and took out a key, opening it. Stepping inside, the former Bravo medic studied her surroundings.

A tiny thirteen by ten foot room that was barely as large as a garage and entirely covered in dust, it had a white furry couch in the center that sat in front of an unlit cobblestone hearth with a small table separating them, the floors, walls and carpet all stone grey. There was a small kitchen in the left hand corner, a washroom to the left, a small bedroom and a sealed door close by. Casting her eyes around, Rebecca saw no picture frames or photographs, nor did she see books of any kind. In fact, the place was pretty barren, looking hardly lived in, which made her all the more curious about this enigmatic "Mr. Sims". Testing the light switch, she was surprised to see the lamp turn on.

"At least something works around here," Rebecca muttered aloud. She hated to see what waited for her in the fridge. Hopefully it was empty.

Moving to the fridge, she opened it up and peered inside, letting out a sigh of relief. Good, she wouldn't have to worry about some mutant mold. Rebecca recalled how during her university years, back when she was living in an apartment, of how she had to clean up the mess the former tenants had left behind. She shuddered. People could be absolute pigs.

Closing the fridge door, Rebecca wandered around the room, looking at the various shelves and furniture. Nothing about this place seemed remotely interesting, let alone valuable. Perhaps this "Mr. Sims" was just some lonely old nutjob. The only thing that caught Rebecca's interest, however, was the closed door. Stepping toward it, she wondered what she might find.

_'A closet, perhaps?'_ she wondered._ 'A bank vault?...A dead body?'_

Rebecca blanched at the thought. She desperately hoped that that wasn't it.

_'Like Schrodinger's Cat,'_ Rebecca thought grimly.

_Anything_ could be in that room, and that fact alone made Rebecca especially nervous. Hell, for all she knew, this "Mr. Sims" was in there himself, waiting for her. After all, what possible reason could he have for involving her?

Reaching into her purse, Rebecca pulled out a can of mace, sweat building on her forehead. Grabbing the handle, she pulled it open slowly, then peered inside.

Nothing. Just an empty cupboard with barren shelves.

Letting out a sigh, Rebecca slipped the spray back into her purse.

"You're getting paranoid, Rebecca," she said to herself.

She was just about to turn away when the former medic spotted a small switch on the wall. Pressing it, Rebecca reeled back in surprise as the cupboard was suddenly drawn backward on some sort of hinge before shifting to the side, revealing a long narrow passage that led to what looked like a dark grey metallic door. On the right hand side of it was a large, wall-mounted biometric fingerprint scanning door lock with a miniature microphone and speaker.

"Wha?" she said in surprise. Stepping toward it curiously, Rebecca stopped when she heard an automated female voice.

"Please state your name into the microphone," the voice said.

Hesitating, Rebecca looked around uncertainly. _This_ hadn't been covered. Like, at all. If Blackwood knew about it, he certainly made no mention of it to either her or her attorney when she was signing.

_'Would it even work?'_ she wondered.

"Please state your name into the microphone," the voice repeated.

"...Uh...Rebecca...Chambers?" the former medic said questioningly.

Seconds counted down as the artificial intelligence analyzed her vocal patterns.

"Voice recognition confirmed. Please provide DNA verification." the voice said.

Raising up her hand, Rebecca looked down puzzledly at it, then back at the device before finally reaching out. As she pressed the palm of her right hand against it, Rebecca watched as a green light shined from the tips of her digits down to her wrist. A few seconds later, there came a click.

"DNA verification complete. Access granted. Welcome, Rebecca Chambers."

Hearing her name in surprise, she watched bewilderedly as the door opened, revealing an elevator. Leaning forward, Rebecca peered around from side to side, studying the interior. A small eight by nine elevator with a grey floor with handrails at the side and two buttons, one marked "Main Floor", the other "Level 2".

"What the hell?" she said incredulously. Why was there an elevator here?

Where did it lead to?

At first, Rebecca resisted the urge to climb down - her spidey senses were tingling big time. Unfortunately, curiosity got the better of her as she stepped inside and pressed the button going down. As she did so, a metal door closed behind her, sealing her inside.

_'This was a bad idea,'_ Rebecca thought, sweat running off her brow.

There came a slight jerk, causing the girl to wobble unsteadily as she felt the elevator begin its descent.

After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator shuddered as it came to an abrupt halt, causing Rebecca to latch onto the rails to steady herself. As she straightened herself back up, the door opened, revealing nothing but darkness. A few seconds later, streaks of red neon light lit up the floors, revealing a massive room, the lights themselves forming a long path down toward a long crescent-shaped modern-looking glass desk with a massive curling projection screen that hung over it. From the way the desk was positioned, it almost seemed as if the room itself were frowning with displeasure at Rebecca's presence.

Taking a nervous step forward, the former medic glanced around anxiously to the other objects in the room as she made her way toward the glass crescent at the end. There were a slew of massive and very expensive supercomputers lined at the sides of the room. Looking to the desk ahead, Rebecca saw a couple of advanced holographic projectors that hung overheard and below on the floor while a technologically elaborate and comfortable-looking swivel chair sat at the crescent's edge. As she got closer to the chair, Rebecca then noticed that the chair had an integrated touch screen keyboard built into its right armrest.

Looking around from side to side, the former medic then looked back to the chair.

_'What is this place?'_ she wondered.

"Please be seated," the automated voice dispassionately said, causing her to flinch.

Swallowing, Rebecca obediently sat down. The moment she did so, the elevator door closed.

"What the-"

Before she even had a chance to react, Rebecca felt her arms and legs restrained by the chair itself as long, mechanical, plastic-looking curled bands looped around her limbs, locking her in place.

"HELP! HELP!" Rebecca screamed as she struggled to free herself from the contraption. "SOMEBODY PLEASE HEL-"

She was cut off as a band looped around her mouth and chin, pressing her head against the headrest.

Unable to move her head, Rebecca let out a series of muffled screams and groans as she tried to wrench herself free.

_'I need to get out of here!'_ she thought desperately.

Looking around with her eyes, Rebecca continued to wriggle in her seat as she struggled against her restraints, letting out incomprehensible and muffled curses. She looked up, pausing as the various projectors flickered to life, revealing several translucent holographic screens that shimmered over the glass desk, hovering over its crescent form, painting the room with hues of green and blue as a holographic projection of the globe was shown. One black holographic screen appeared directly in front of Rebecca. Flicking on, she watched in horror as a red and white umbrella logo appeared amidst a sea of green.

And then _he_ appeared. The moment Rebecca saw him, she let out a muffled scream.

Staring at her from the screen was the Devil himself, the man that haunted Rebecca's dreams since that awful night in the Arklay Mountains, since that godawful mansion.

Wesker.

Or rather, a recording of Wesker.

Seated in the very chair that Rebecca found herself bound in, Wesker wore a black suit with a double-breasted coat, his gloved hands resting comfortably on the armrests as his strong, handsome, chiselled and clean-shaven features stared ahead to the camera, his peroxide blonde hair slicked back and neatly trimmed, black reflective sunglasses concealing his eyes.

_'It's a trap!'_ she thought in horror. _'Wesker has lured me here from beyond the grave so that he could finish the job and drag me down to hell with him!'_

Upon that realization, Rebecca shrieked even louder, her efforts renewed as she shook violently in her chair, doing everything possible to get herself free.

"Hello, Rebecca." Came that deep, dangerously deceptive and velvety baritone voice as it purred into the microphone. "My apologies for the restraints, but they are a necessity to keep you under control. No doubt you will try calling for help or find a way out of here. It is important that you listen to this message, to what I have to say."

As Rebecca used up the last ounce of strength she had, the former Bravo medic looked up to the screen, staring at Wesker tiredly with a mixture of despair, scorn and apprehension.

Wesker leaned back in his seat.

"Now that I have your attention, we can begin."

Rebecca felt her heart working on overdrive, her forehead pounding as she watched the former S.T.A.R.S. Captain, watching as he took in a deep breath, exhaling softly.

"You are, of course, aware of my origins. Some of it, anyway. What you don't know, however, pertains to you."

Rebecca scrunched up her brows.

_'To me?'_ she wondered.

Wesker shifted uncomfortably.

"The truth of the matter, Rebecca," he began, "is that...I..."

He trailed off, frowning.

Rebecca blinked in confusion. What was he talking about? And why did he sound so...hesitant?

She watched as the man in black cleared his throat.

"...I think it would be better if I just showed you." Wesker said as began typing into the keyboard on his armrest. As he did so, Rebecca watched in shock as various photographs of her appeared on the screen, representing every facet of her life, all the way back to when she was a child.

Rebecca stared at the various images of her life, trying to make sense of it. Claire had told Rebecca about the photo she had found in Wesker's desk, but seeing all of this..._stuff_, Rebecca was _really_ creeped out by it all! Even more creeped out than when she found out about the photo!

_'What is this?'_ Rebecca thought as she stared at her life on display. This was a whole new level of creepy! The idea that Wesker had been stalking and watching her after all this time...Rebecca felt her whole body shake as she trembled fearfully. The screen even featured some of her more _recent_ photos!

What does this all mean? Was Claire right about him? That he was some sort of stalker pervert?

Rebecca wanted to scream in outrage and anger, to demand what he wanted from her, but the former medic stopped herself as she remembered that it was just a recording.

Why was he so obsessed with her?! What did he want?!

Wesker stared back from the screen, his features hard to read.

"The truth of the matter, Rebecca," he began, "...is that...I have _always_ been with you. Whether you have been aware of it, or not."

He pushed up his sunglasses.

"...I was twenty years old. At the time, I was working at the Arklay Laboratory in Spencer Mansion as an assistant to Dr. James Marcus. I had gotten into a heated argument with a colleague, William Birkin, over some trivial matter, I can't remember what it was, but it was enough to make me want to get away and head into town to let off some steam. Generally speaking, employees at the facility were not supposed to go into city, but I've often made secret excursions, if only to escape some of the monotony and nonsense that went on, _especially_ Marcus. While getting something from a coffee shop, I encountered a young woman, an undergraduate student that had been studying to be a vet."

Rebecca heard the wistfulness in his tone, his voice softening as he leaned his head back as he reminisced.

"One thing had led to another, and pretty soon, we ended up having a one night stand. When I returned back to the facility, I was angrily reprimanded and locked in a dungeon within the basement of the Training Facility by Marcus for leaving the premises." Wesker's mouth clenched angrily, his eyes glowing red beneath the sunglasses. "For three days, he had me locked down there and beaten with a stick. Let me tell you, Rebecca - when Marcus _wants_ to make a point, oh, believe me, he _will_! To this day, I _still_ think about it, and it makes my blood boil. From that time onward, I steered clear of the city. That was, until Marcus' death." A cruel smirk formed on his lips. "Revenge is a dish best served cold, indeed."

Inhaling sharply, he exhaled, letting out a full-chested growl before continuing, the color in his eyes fading.

"Once Marcus had been eliminated, I felt entitled to a bit of celebration, to commemorate my freedom from that miserable man. So, I continued from where I left off." It was then that Rebecca noticed a slight, almost imperceptible change in his features; despite the smooth tone of his skin, she detected slight crows feet forming at the corners of his eyes. "One day, I encountered that woman again at the very same coffee shop. We exchanged pleasantries, talked a bit about the weather, what we were doing, although I made no mention of either my work or what had happened, et cetera. I had told her that I had been in an accident and had to recover at a hospital. She was sympathetic and understanding. When I asked her about herself, however, I had gotten quite the surprise; apparently, the woman had gotten married and had a child. _My_ child."

Rebecca stared in shock.

Wesker...has a child?!

She couldn't believe it! Somewhere out there was Wesker's kid!

Rebecca crinkled her brows. If that's so, then...why did he need her? Why involve her at all? Had he wanted her to help find this child?

Rebecca frowned.

_'No,'_ she thought. That couldn't be the reason.

Wesker was a dangerous criminal with superhuman abilities and no shortage of resources at his disposal. Hell, he didn't need to do it himself - he probably has a horde of goons to carry out his will. If he wanted something enough, he would take it without hesitation.

So why-

Rebecca paused.

It couldn't be...

She tried shaking her head in denial.

No, no, no, it couldn't be!

Wesker drummed his fingers along the armrest, saying nothing as he stared off into space. He sat motionlessly for several minutes, looking as if he were trying to form the right words. "Since that discovery..."

He frowned.

Leaning forward, the former S.T.A.R.S. Captain looked directly into the camera.

"For the record," he said, "I am _not_ a sentimental man. I _detest_ sentimentality. And yet...even though I was never part of the child's life...I had always made sure that it had been provided for and that it wanted for nothing. Whether it was dance recitals, braces, hospital check-ups...it didn't matter." He leaned into his chair, exhaling softly. "I was given some pictures from the mother over the years, including one with the child dressed in a basketball uniform after a big game, but...I'm afraid that particular photo is gone now. The last time I remember seeing it was in the drawer of my desk back at the S.T.A.R.S. office."

Rebecca felt tears stream down her cheeks as she stared in disbelief at the man that ruined her life.

No...

Wesker shifted in his chair, placing one leg over the other.

"...I have no doubt you have questions, especially about that night. Why didn't I come forward? Why did I let you get involved with S.T.A.R.S.? Why would I send you up to that mansion?" The former S.T.A.R.S. Captain sighed. "The answers are...complicated, but you deserve to know the truth."

He tapped his index finger patiently.

"I am many things, Rebecca...but...'family man' isn't one of them. I don't believe in that whole fairy tale of settling down, the nuclear family, white picket fences and happily ever afters. I don't believe that the world is composed of either black or white. I believe in power. It is what builds empires. Governments. Relationships. 'Power _is_ relations', as Foucault would say." Wesker's features softened. "Another reason was because...at the time, it was in my best interest to keep you at a distance. Umbrella's game is a _very_ dangerous one, my dear, one with high stakes. Even the smallest miscalculation has deadly consequences. I couldn't risk it. Not only would it be a distraction...but it would keep you safe."

Wesker drummed his fingers together, shifting his legs.

"Why would I involve you with S.T.A.R.S.?" he asked rhetorically. His head tilted up as he looked to the ceiling. "The truth, Rebecca, was that...I never wanted you to be involved. I had been entirely _against_ it from the beginning." His lips curled into a disgusted snarl. "But...then that loathsome cretin Irons entered the equation. I saw the way he was looking at you when you first entered the Station, how he approached you with that look in his eye. If left unattended, Irons would have had his way with you, and the thought of him doing so churned my stomach. Even worse, if I turned you away, there was no guarantee that Irons was going to leave you alone. In fact, he probably would have felt emboldened and persist. He has a one-track mind, that one. When it comes to women...he never took 'no' for an answer."

Rebecca shuddered in her..._Wesker's_ seat, watching as the blonde man shrugged. "So, I took you on as Bravo Team's medic, if only to keep a close eye on you and to keep Irons on a tight leash." He faltered momentarily. "...That...and...I suppose...to do right by you as a father."

Rebecca couldn't believe what she was hearing. She stared at the screen, her mind reeling from his words.

Wesker stared at the camera intently.

"You probably have doubts about what I'm saying. After all, why would a father try to kill his own child?" He leaned back in his chair, the tips of his fingers pressed together. "...There was a time when I tried to tell myself that I didn't care...but...the truth was...I had. I _do_. As much as I tried to deny it...I couldn't stop thinking about you. Even when I tried putting distance between us...even when I tried blocking you from my mind...I could never get away. While I admit that it had always been my intention to eliminate S.T.A.R.S...I..._never_ wanted to harm you, Rebecca. So, I had ended up "bungling" the job in sabotaging Bravo Team's helicopter."

The former Captain shifted his sunglasses. "You're probably thinking, 'But what kind of a father would shoot his own child?! You shot me in the chest!'" He then leaned forward from his seat. "Precisely! I shot you in the _chest_, Rebecca...where I _knew _that you had been wearing the bulletproof vest. I had tampered with everyone else's, but for yours, not only did I make sure that it had been extra padded, but I deliberately shot you in the _one_ spot I _knew_ would have been protected! I made sure of it myself."

There was a slight pause, his voice continuing in a slightly softer, gentler tone and volume, "...I would have gotten you out of there, Rebecca. With a little memory alteration, you would have been safe and sound. That had been the plan, anyway."

Rebecca shivered, chilled by Wesker's comments.

It was then that something unexpected happened; pulling off his sunglasses, Wesker started to pinch the bridge of his nose. Putting them onto one of the arm rests, he bent forward and rubbed his eyes. At first, Rebecca thought that he was having a migraine. Letting out a deep sigh, the man in black looked up to the camera, causing the former Bravo medic to shudder in repulsion as she saw his glowing yellow and red elliptical pupiled eyes. And yet...that wasn't even the bizarre part; he had such a profound look of sadness that Rebecca had to do a double-take. Wesker had always struck her as strong and confident, so to see such a reaction was startling!

"...I don't have many regrets, Rebecca," Wesker stated. "I don't regret betraying S.T.A.R.S. I don't regret a lot of what I had done."

He hesitated. "But...with that said, however...I _do_ have some. I regret not being there when you were born. I regret not having been more involved with your life as a father should. I regret not being there for you during your most vulnerable. Your birthdays. Christmases. I regret getting you involved with S.T.A.R.S. I regret you having gone to that mansion. I regret the fact that you saw your teammates die." He took in a deep breath. "My biggest regret, though...was shooting you." He shook his head despondently. "Not my finest hour. Even though I knew the vest would protect you...I...felt...afraid."

Rebecca blinked in surprise.

Wesker gave a dry chuckle.

"Imagine that! Me, afraid!" His chuckle built up. "My my my, what is the world coming to?" The blonde shook his head in incredulity. "It is strange how your perspective starts to shift and warp when you're a parent. I have seen and done things that would have made lesser men else turn away in horror. I had created horrors beyond people's wildest imaginations."

His voice lowered and softened, "And yet...seeing you lying there on the ground like that...sprawled out while I had the smoking gun in my hand...I...I felt..._nauseated_."

Wesker stared ahead blankly, as if he were reliving that event again.

"As an Umbrella researcher, I can tell you everything there is to know about viruses, genetics and medicine. There is nothing in that area that I am uncertain of." he said with an air of confidence. "My skills on that front are without question."

Rebecca watched as the proud air slipped.

"...When it comes to being a parent, however...to you...everything is terra incognita," he admitted, shaking his head wearily. "...You _try_ to do what you can, but even then...you can't help wondering if the decisions you have made were in fact the _right_ ones. Even now I wonder if I had been better off not telling you all this in the first place so that you can move on. Seeing you lying there helplessly on the floor...looking lifeless...I-I actually felt horrified and disgusted by what I had done. For the first time in my life...I actually felt unsure about everything. All of the knowledge that I possessed suddenly meant nothing. For all of the education and degrees I possess, I was nothing more than an imbecile. Neither money nor power mattered. If it hadn't been for the fact that Chris and the Tyrant were there to distract me..."

Wesker's eyes drooped.

"...Even though I despise sentiment...I have...often wondered how things would have turned out had things been different. Had I been more involved, could I have prevented some of the things that have befallen you? Would I have been a good father? Would you have been happy? Or would it have been better had you steered entirely clear from me? That you'd not known the truth?"

He then shrugged. "I guess we'll never know the answers to those questions."

Wesker looked up to the ceiling.

"You probably hate me, and I wouldn't blame you if you do. I gave you plenty of reason to, after all. Despite that...I still care a great deal about you. More than you know."

Taking in a long deep breath, Wesker exhaled sharply through his nostrils as he swept his hands through his hair.

"I don't apologise for what I am, nor do I regret a lot of my actions. As a rule, I _never_ make apologies to anyone, regardless what I've done." He faltered. "...You will be the exception to that."

Lowering his reptilian eyes to the camera, he stared sadly at Rebecca from the screen.

"I am truly sorry, Rebecca, for everything that I have done to you." he said in a soft voice.

Rebecca couldn't stop herself from crying.

Putting on his sunglasses, Wesker pulled back in his swivel chair.

"Now, onto business." the man in black said, his face reverting back to its stoic mask. "If you're seeing this, then it means I have finally met my end, no doubt at the hands of Chris." A smirk crept up his face. "As it should. If there's one thing I respect about him, it's his consistency and indefatigable nature. Once he sets his sights on something, he never lets go or gives up." He waved his hand in dismissal. "But enough about him. It's you that I'm thinking about, Rebecca."

He folded one leg over the other, his fingers pressed together.

"I have been working on a project. If all goes well, then a new world will emerge from the ruins of the one you used to know."

Rebecca felt all the color drain away from her face as she shook her head fearfully.

"Uroboros," he stated. "A modern day philosopher's stone that grants those genetically gifted the chance to ascend."

Rebecca started to violently twist herself in the chair, muffled screaming echoing in the room as she tried get free.

"That was..." he said slowly, "...what I had _originally_ intended."

Hearing the uncertainty in his voice, Rebecca paused, looking back to the screen.

Wesker stared to the floor, his eyes concealed.

"Initially...I thought of having you injected with it, as a gift from father to daughter." He hesitated. "After all, shouldn't a father give nothing but the best he has to offer to his child? The right to be a god is yours!"

He shook his head sadly. "But...then I realized...if I did that...it would be a repeat of that night all over again, only much worse. There is no guarantee that you would take to Uroboros. And...I can't do that to you. Not again."

Rebecca watched as the former S.T.A.R.S. Captain leaned back into his chair, his hand on his chin.

"So...that leaves me with a bit of a problem," Wesker stated. "What would be the best thing for me to do? What do I leave for you when I'm gone?"

Dread weighed on Rebecca as she waited with baited breath, her palms sweaty, goosebumps forming on her skin as she watched him stroking his chin. A few minutes later, the index finger that he used ceased moving.

"I think I know."

Sitting up straight, Wesker pushed up his sunglasses as he looked back to the screen.

"I, Albert Wesker," he began, "being of sound mind and body, of my own free volition, hereby leave to you the entirety of my fortune and resources. Do with them as you wish. On this hard drive, you will find all of my research data and Umbrella logs, along with a list of my facilities, contacts and Swiss Bank accounts. If you want to make use of my research, you are more than welcome to it. If you want my money, it is yours. Nothing will be denied to you so long as you have this hard drive. You can donate the money to charity, you can burn it, whatever you wish, it is yours to decide. If you wish to destroy it all...I won't stop you. Just enter the code 071880 into the panel beside you, and this place will be set to self-destruct in ten minutes. I advise you to be clear of the area by then."

Rebecca felt the restraints loosen, then watched as the bands pulled away.

"The decision rests with you now. Goodbye, Rebecca."

And with that, Wesker's image disappeared, leaving her in darkness. Looking warily around, distrustful of her surroundings, Rebecca then slumped back into the chair, staring off to where the screen had been, bewildered.

So that's why she had survived.

As memories of that night returned, of Richard, Forest, Enrico and the others, Rebecca trembled. Raising a hand to her mouth, she shook her head, her eyes stained with tears. As one tear fell down her cheek, the girl felt her lips quiver. Leaning forward, she started to cry softly into her hands. Tiny soft sniffles eventually transformed into long, loud wailing sobs of anguish, her whole body curled up as if she wanted to make herself small enough to hide or fade away from view. Rebecca remained on that chair, in that position, crying in the shadows, the longest and hardest she ever had in her life.

An hour later, she sat right up and wiped away her tears, using the collar of her shirt to wipe her nose, then looked back to the holographically projected screens, sharply inhaling.

She pondered her next move.

_'I could always kill myself,'_ Rebecca thought grimly. After all, shouldn't she be dead herself? It would only be fitting for a Wesker to fall by fire. What better ending was there?

There was only one problem - she was too much of a coward.

Shaking her head in self-disgust, Rebecca studied the screen projections. So all of this was hers, huh? Thanks, dad.

Using the touchscreen, she studied the various files and accounts. So much information and money...

_'I could use some money,'_ Rebecca thought. After all, she had expenses, plus she could finally get the things she had wanted to get for her mom but had been unable to afford at long last.

As the various possibilities floated through her mind, Rebecca paused.

_'No,'_ she thought.

It would be wrong.

This was blood money. Money that was stained with the blood of Richard. Of Enrico, Forest, Edward, Kenneth, Kevin and Joseph. Money earned from their murders. To use it would be obscene. She would essentially be spitting on their graves.

And yet...some part of her felt drawn.

_'Maybe if we donated it to charity-'_ One part of her whispered.

_'You can't.'_ Another part countered. How was she going to explain this without revealing the source? In all probability, the money probably _was_ illegal. She couldn't touch it.

Then again, perhaps she could do it anonymously...

Rebecca leaned back into the chair, staring conflictedly up into the ceiling.

What was she supposed to do?

* * *

Rebecca returned back to her Volkswagen rental, the cabin fully ablaze. Getting into her vehicle, she drove off into the night as the nightmares of yesterday burned behind her. Wiping her tear-stained eyes, she continued onward sniffling, driving on for hours until finally stopping somewhere off the side of the forested road, where she cried long and hard, resting her head against the steering wheel as she did so. By the time she stopped, the sun had risen again. Raising her head from the steering wheel, Rebecca let out a deep sigh.

Starting up the engine again, Rebecca looked ahead to the shining sun, at the promise of tomorrow. Reaching into her pocket, she studied the memory key for a moment, then slipped it back to her pocket.

"Time to go home."

* * *

**Author's Note: So, the idea for this fic actually came about when I learned something interesting about Wesker; apparently someone had sourced the character model for him from REmake and discovered that he had green eyes rather than blue as expected. **

**I've heard all sorts of theories regarding his relationship with Rebecca - that they were lovers, that Rebecca had a crush (which is possible), that Rebecca was Jake's mother (which would be EXTREMELY problematic and creepy, as she would have been twelve at the time of Jake's conception), even one intriguing theory that she's a Wesker child. **

**Taking this news about Wesker in consideration along with the photo of Rebecca from RE2, it then occurred to me - could Rebecca be Wesker's daughter? **

**Interestingly, the statue that players can find in the Exhibition Room, the one entitled "Girl Drawing Water", is a scene from the Bible; in fact, it is the common iconic representation of the character Rebecca. Since Wesker had been working there at the time, it only made sense that he had seen the statue, perhaps even knew about its Biblical reference. **

**Even more, both Wesker and Rebecca have genius-level intellect, so could it be possible that it's hereditary? **

**In theory it could explain those aspects, along with why Wesker, a meticulous and efficient killer, seemingly screwed the pooch when it came to assassinating her, let alone didn't follow up and try to finish the job. He's had plenty of opportunity, and yet, he never bothered curiously.**

**I don't know if the end result is any good or not, but if the latter, then I hope a better writer comes along and does this idea some justice in a better story.**

**A huge shout out of thanks to irithyll for encouraging me to write up this idea, especially given some of the trouble I have been having lately. I highly recommend her work - she is an excellent writer.**

**Also want to give thanks to Lady Akumu, Flaming Overlord, Ivyblade80, EvilToTheCore13, Hawkii, Death101 - Fox Version and various others for their wonderfully helpful suggestions in improving this story - thank you so much, guys! **

**Hope you all enjoyed the story! **


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